He saw the rabbiter half lying on the deck of the barge, panting with rage and fear, and shouted to him, "Safe! all safe!"
But Lawford answered with a bitter imprecation on the son of the cannibal, who had purposely flung him over, tossed him like a bone to the hungry sharks.
"Ask yourself why," retorted Edwin. "And what might not I have done to you, if I had never heard such words as, 'Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more'?"
"Come," interposed the waterman to Lawford, "shut up. Such language as this is wonderfully unbecoming from the mouths of fellows scarce snatched back from a watery grave, and we don't care to hear it. Say what you will to the young 'un, he made a bold fight with the tide to save you. Let him alone."
"Where were you bound for?" said the bargee aside to Edwin, as the boy poured out his gratitude for their timely assistance.
"I wanted to take a passage on board the steamer for Christchurch, and a Maori boy was rowing me down to meet it. This man was in the same canoe, and had robbed the boy who was rowing us. In the struggle between them the canoe was upset."
"Go on with him, then," advised the bargee, "and give him in charge when he lands."
"No," answered Edwin resolutely, "for the boy recovered his own. But this man is a bad one, and I would rather stay where I am than be in his company another hour."
"Run off, then," returned the bargee kindly; "run until you are dry, and you will take no harm. As for this fellow, we will ship him off to the South Island, if that is where he wants to go."
Edwin wrung the bargee's horny hand, and followed his counsel with all speed. Lawford's jeering laugh was ringing in his ears.